


tocsin

by Hope



Category: Firefly, Serenity (2005)
Genre: Ficlet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-22
Updated: 2005-10-22
Packaged: 2017-10-03 10:36:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hope/pseuds/Hope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b><a href="http:"></a>tocsin</b> \TOCK-sin\, <i>noun</i>:<br/>1. An alarm bell, or the ringing of a bell for the purpose of alarm.<br/>2. A warning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tocsin

There are moments when his breath stops and time stops and something inside him _twists_ and then speeds onward in a different direction entirely, and this is almost one of those times. He's learned to walk silently aboard the ship; but apparently not quietly enough for River, because as he pads the final step back to his bunk and sets his hand on the edge of the door, he hears this hiss of her's as it's slid open, viciously rapidly, until thudding to a halt against the stop deep inside the wall.

He makes himself turn, the sound of the door and her silence enough to set the tautness of his shoulders, make the movement tight-wound and forcibly slow, and the cold lucidity glittering in her eyes supports what he's deducted already, so he doesn't offer any speech.

"Late," she says, and,

"Not that late. Still dark," he can't help but reply, an automatic retort to her somewhat presumptuous tone, her attitude obvious even in that single, clipped word.

Her gaze slices over his skin, flickering down and up as he stands still and tense before the door to his own bunk, and he can imagine what she sees; his shirt untucked, hair unkempt, trousers beltless and vest unbuttoned. Throat bruised. He thinks there might have been a time where he would have been concerned over any number of conclusions she'd draw from her observations, but this is only almost one of those times.

"Later and later," she's edging away from cold and into plain irritable, now, though he knows by now that her crypticness isn't necessarily an indication of psychological unrest. "Pushing back the sunrise." She bares her teeth a little, and the door slams again, closed this time.

Simon's still holding his breath.

**Author's Note:**

> http://hopeful-fiction.livejournal.com/36130.html


End file.
